At the End of Their Dark Journey
by PRIFHMUS
Summary: After the final battle, something mysterious occurs, and the survivors begin reading the final Harry Potter book along with some mysterious friends. Rated M because I have a paranoia about my writing. Enjoy.
1. Resurrection

**A/N: This _will_ be a reading the books fic, but I just wanted to get the setting out their first. I've never tried one of these before, so bear with me. I won't be updating at a steady pace, so don't expect them rapidly, nor weekly. Homework and such take away from writing time.**

**Disclaimer: These characters and settings belong to J.K. Rowling, as well as any writing in bold not preceded by A/N.**

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Harry felt his knees all but give out beneath him as the powerful golden beam broke, and he desperately made to catch the Elder wand. His feet pounded the rough flagstone of the Great Hall - cracked and broken by battle - as his fingers brushed the wood of the wand. Then they were wrapping around it, and he was turning to the deadened shell of what had once been Tom Riddle, commonly known as Lord Voldemort.

But just as his eyes settled on the pallid form, just as his fingers closed about the handle of the Elder wand, just as the crowd of people began to rush towards him, something none of them had ever expected happened.

A second golden beam shot from the tip of the Elder wand, rushing to connect with what had once been the Dark Lord himself. The beam became a blinding light, and a few people were forced to cover their eyes with their arms. Those who continued to squint at the body and the glow enveloping it, tears filling their eyes from the intensity of the light, witnessed what could only be called a miracle.

Seven separate beams shot up and out from the wall of light that surrounded Voldemort's body, arching to hit the floor of the Great Hall in seven different spots. Harry squinted at them through tear blurred eyes, confused and shocked beyond belief. The beam connecting to his wand disconnected and disappeared, then the other beams were detaching from the one around Voldemort, and creating seven pools of light at the other ends of the beams. The eight pools of light (seven plus the one surrounding Voldemort) pulsed faintly, and began to stretch into tall columns.

A phoenix song, not unlike the one sung when Dumbledore fell from the tower, rent the air, and Harry felt his breath catch.

The beams of light were thinning and shortening, moulding themselves into shapes that could be nothing but human. Two women, six men. Arranged in a sort of semicircle across from Harry. And the light was fading, revealing the humans beneath the glow, and Harry's eyes flew wide open.

Screams echoed out from behind him, but he could not speak. The tears in his eyes, born from the blinding light, fell down his cheeks without check. All around them the phoenix song continued to echo, but only one thing registered in the Boy Who Lived's mind.

Standing where Voldemort's body had once lay, dressed in the same sweeping midnight blue robes as he had been when Harry last saw him, was one Albus Dumbledore. Spread out behind him, in the place where the beams had connected with bare tiles, stood seven other people that Harry had never thought he would ever see again, or ever at all. From left to right his eyes drank in their forms, tears still pouring down his cheeks. He recognized them all as soon as his eyes fell upon them, from pictures and personal experience.

A tall lean man with messy black hair that stuck up in all directions and a pair of round glasses, dressed in dark red - nearly black - robes. _James Potter_, a soft voice whispered in his mind as his eyes slid onto the next person.

A second man - nearly as tall as the first - with shoulder length wavy black hair and striking blue-gray eyes, dressed in a set of fiery red robes, looking as though he had never witnessed the horrors of Azkaban. _Sirius_, the soft voice continued.

A young man who looked startlingly like the one before, shorter and thinner with the same length hair pulled back in a green ribbon and grey-brown eyes, dressed in dark green robes. _Regulus Black_, a memory from an old photograph identified him.

Next was a young woman Harry could instantly identify; vibrant pink hair, a heart shaped face, dressed in bold canary yellow robes. _Tonks - or is it Lupin now?_

Then a pale man with a multitude of scars and tawny hair, dressed in orange-red robes, looking twenty years younger than Harry had ever seen him. _Remus Lupin_.

A woman with vibrant red hair and emerald eyes, wearing a robe of pale green. _Lily Potter_. The tears were not stopping.

The final person was a short and stocky redhead with a trickster's grin, dressed in unsightly maroon robes that clashed terribly with his fiery red hair. _Fred_.

As the sight before him registered in his shocked mind, Harry became aware of the five people flanking him. Ron and Hermione stood to his left and right respectively, with Ginny standing to the left of Ron, and Luna then Neville standing to the right of Hermione. All of them had their wands drawn and pointing at the people who had appeared. Harry couldn't help but notice the state they were in. Ron, with bloody cuts on his arms and torso, his clothing and hair slick with grime and blood. Ginny, with a bruised and bloody face, grime covering her clothing, a bleeding gash on her right shin. Hermione, with the slow-healing cut on her neck from Bellatrix, also covered in grime, still pale from her torture. Luna, grimy, bloody, and bruised, with a cut on her lip and her right shoulder. Finally, Neville, who looked so much worse then the rest. He was coated in so much grime and dirt and soot that the multitude of bruises and gashes beneath were nearly invisible, and only the stark crimson of the blood from the wounds broke through the layer of filth covering his body.

Despite the terrible state of their appearances, they all held their wands at the ready, with hardened and haunted eyes.

"What are you?" Harry asked eventually, when he had regained his voice and lifted his own wand to point along with the rest.

"I believe, despite our earlier state of decease, we are who we appear to be. Only now we are alive and well." Dumbledore stated gravely. "I myself am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

"You'll need to give us some proof, mate. We're not that stupid." Ron snorted.

Dumbledore looked mildly surprised, then he chuckled slightly. Ron coloured but said nothing, teeth gritted. The old Headmaster turned to Harry and smiled kindly, not looking the least bit concerned with all of the wands pointing at him - the rest of the crowd in the hall had followed the Silver Six's lead with only a minute's hesitation. After all, nobody wanted to pull their wand on the Headmaster - unless that Headmaster was Snape of course.

"We spoke after the Killing Curse hit you, and I told you that **his body keeps her sacrifice alive, and while that enchantment survives, so do you and so does Voldemort's one last hope for himself** (Deathly Hallows, chapter 35)."

Harry frowned and lowered his wand, a feeling of both disbelief and elation filling him up until he felt he was about to burst. No one but Dumbledore could know that, and only Dumbledore could repeat the exact words he had used. Which meant…

"And you lot?" Harry demanded, gesturing at the rest of them with his wand.

A couple of them blinked in surprise, but he could clearly see a smile upon Remus' face. He supposed it must be because Remus had verified who he was multiple times for Harry, or otherwise had Harry do so for him.

"The last time we spoke, I asked you to be Godfather for my son Teddy, and the time before that, you called me a coward and I attempted to curse you." It was not only his body that was younger, but his voice was much less hoarse and much lighter in tone too.

"You attempted to curse my son?" Lily demanded, whirling around so quickly that her fiery hair flared out behind her head. "Damn it, Remus!"

The werewolf grinned at the redheaded woman in a way that reminded those in the crowd forcefully of the Weasley twins. She had a wand out in an instant, and was pointing it at him with a vicious glare. Remus just laughed and lifted his hands in a gesture to show that he was unarmed. Lily just narrowed her eyes and advanced towards him.

"God I've missed hearing you threaten people, Lily. Especially when it was James you were threatening." He laughed, eyes twinkling madly.

Sirius also burst out into laughter, grinning widely, but James just pouted and crossed his arms with a huff. This only served to make them laugh harder, and within a few moments he too was grinning, and chuckling. Lily pocketed her wand with a huff, a small smile lighting up her pretty face.

Harry couldn't help but lower his wand again at the sight, and the answer that Remus had given. Ron and Hermione also lowered their wands, looking quite delighted with the news that these people were alive. Harry had expected Hermione to protest and say it wasn't logical, but then again, after what they had gone through in the past couple of hours, little was 'logical' anymore. Luna, Ginny, and Neville followed their lead - as did the rest of the Great Hall - if a little slowly. There was still mistrust in Neville's eyes, and he sent Harry a searching glance, but still lowered his wand. Harry supposed that the other young man had become quite untrusting of unexplainable surprises in the past year.

Then the group was turning towards him, and Tonks hair was turning a vibrant yellow and short and spiky.

"Wotcher, Harry!" She cried out, waving at him with a grin to match her husband's.

Harry nodded back in a slight daze, confused and elated and quite possibly crying again. He couldn't really be sure anymore. Hermione certainly was, while sending Tonks a watery smile. Ron looked completely dumbfounded, and Ginny seemed to be valiantly fighting back tears. Neville was smiling faintly at the assembled group, his eyes slightly moist. Luna just continued to stand there with her normal dreamy expression, not looking the least bit confused or surprised by the turn of events. Then she turned to him with a dreamy little smile on her face.

"I told you they were just lurking behind the veil." She stated, and Harry smiled back at her as the group approached them.

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**A/N: Okay. Just, Okay.**

**So… Not what I was initially intending to write, but honestly, I think it turned out alright. Umm, not really sure if it makes sense to anyone else, but Hermione will be working on the answer in later chapters, so no need to worry.**

**Luna, of course, needed to say something about the development. That's just the way I picture her.**

**I don't know if anybody else liked it, or if the fact that this is a reading the books fic makes sense yet, but, uh, feedback is appreciated? Yes, yes, feedback is appreciated.**


	2. Let us Begin

**A/N: Okay, thought I'd get the ball rolling right away with a second chapter. I'm spoiling you, sorry to get your hopes up, but I still won't be updating frequently. Life gets in the way. **

**For those of you who kept up with this after the first chapter, good job! For those of you who skipped it in order to get to the reading, it probably doesn't make much sense in the beginning.**

**Disclaimer: Bold (unless followed by A/N), characters, and settings belong to J.K. Rowling.**

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"So what do you know about what's happened?" Hermione asked curiously, looking at the groups gathered around the Great Hall.

It had taken some time, but with a little work (and a few well placed spells from McGonagall), they had managed to clean up most of the rubble in the Great Hall and summon up a series of tables and cushioned benches. They were not set up as the house tables were, rather in random clusters. Students and former students from all houses sat in groups at the tables, still staring with wide eyes at the people who had risen from the dead. Harry sat at a table with his mother, father, and Sirius - who still glared sullenly at his brother; Regulus had avoided speaking or looking at him since they had returned. The Weasleys sat at the next table to the right, which was quite a bit bigger than most of the other tables. Hermione sat with Regulus at the table to the left, with Luna and Neville as well. Remus, Tonks, Teddy, and Andromeda (who had been flooed in by McGonagall) sat just behind Harry's table. The head table was still up front on the dais, only now there were two 'power chairs' (as Fred and George had called them when the second one was created); one for McGonagall and one for Dumbledore.

"Well… We know that Harry died, that there was a second war, and everything that happened up to the last moment of our first life." James replied slowly, shaking his head. (**A/N: let's just say that there was a spell cast so that everyone can hear everyone else, as though they're sitting beside each other**).

"So, you don't know anything else?" Ron piped up, glancing curiously over at them.

Sirius assumed an overly exaggerated offended expression and put his hand to his chest. He then fell back into his chair as though he had fainted, closing his eyes.

"Oh the agony! Did you hear that Jamesie? He doesn't think we know anything! Anything at all." He fake sobbed, tossing an arm carelessly over his eyes.

"It cuts me deep, Sirius, it truly does." James agreed, pretending to faint.

From the other table, Remus barked out a laugh and waved his wand. Simultaneously two yelps echoed from the over dramatic Marauders, and they jumped up in their seats to glare at the werewolf. He shot them a smug look and returned his wand to his sleeve, not looking the least bit guilty.

"Ignore them Ron, they just love theatrics." He told the Weasley, acting like he hadn't done anything.

"You didn't have to hex us." Sirius pouted.

"I did no such thing." Remus replied calmly, and those who had seen him pull out his wand sent him confused looks. "I merely pulled out my wand to summon a toy for my son. Teddy's always like having his stuffed wolf nearby, along with his stuffed dog and stuffed dear. Of course, I could have left him to cry, but I thought that might disturb some of the others in the room. Besides that, I think that it would be a little cruel."

Harry glanced over to see the stuffed toys around the infant, who was giggling as he gummed the ear of the stuffed black dog. Most of them felt that what Remus said was true, because his old professor couldn't possibly be lying. None of them saw the smirk Remus shared with his wife and Lily as the other two Marauders continued to glare.

"Might I make a suggestion." Dumbledore cut in, though he sounded more like he was stating something than asking. "I know a spell that would allow for everyone here to receive the knowledge of what transpired during the war, but we must have the permission of one Harry Potter first."

"Albus, that spell is forbidden for a reason!" Minerva (**A/N: I got tired of calling her McGonagall, she gets to be called Minerva now**) snapped, glaring at the aged man.

"What spell?" Harry asked curiously, his question echoed by his mother, Hermione, and every Ravenclaw in the room.

"It is an ancient spell that requires a blank novel bound in crimson leather and a single drop of blood taken willingly from the one who wishes to have their memories bound within the novel. Their memories are taken in yearly increments, which means this would focus exclusively to the past year. When the book is finished being read, it is consumed by fire and disappears forever."

"So, you want us to read out the past year's events from a book of my memories?" Harry asked, frowning.

Dumbledore nodded, and a loud murmuring began in the room. Harry stared blankly at the man who had once been his headmaster, wheels turning in his head. If they read the book then everyone would know all of his thoughts, but they would get an unabridged version of events. His feelings broadcasted to the Great Hall, but it would likely be better than having to say it all himself. Feeling reluctant, Harry got to his feet and approached the head table.

He managed a wan smile for Dumbledore as the man conjured up a blank book and Harry held out his hand. The tip of his finger was pricked, and he watched as a single drop of his blood fell onto the cover of the book. Then, before his very eyes, spidery gold writing crossed the cover, and he was certain that words had filled up the pages too.

Trying not to show his nerves, Harry went back to his seat. He did not want to read the book, but it would be the safest way to share all of the information without any of it being diluted.

"Let us begin." Dumbledore cleared his throat, picking up the book. "**Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.**"

Harry shared a look with his friends, but made no move to speak. He was going to comment as little as possible, and hope that everyone else followed his lead.

**The two men appeared out of nowhere, a few yards apart in the narrow, moonlit lane. For a second they stood quite still, wands directed at each other's chests; then, recognizing each other, they stowed their wands beneath their cloaks and started walking briskly in the same direction.**

"They sound really suspicious of each other." A little first year Ravenclaw piped up, blinking.

"It's a war, honey." A Hufflepuff senior at her table replied kindly.

**"News?" asked the taller of the two.**

**"The best," replied Severus Snape.**

"Why didn't Snape come back when Regulus did?" Hermione asked suddenly, frowning slightly. Harry could tell that she had just been waiting for an opening to question the resurrection.

"A good question, Miss Granger. Perhaps you should look into it." Albus replied. (**A/N: I'm going to try to refer to most characters who are mentioned a lot by their first names. Otherwise it'll be their last.**)

Hermione nodded and drew her beaded purse from her sock and pulled some writing things from within. Regulus raised an eyebrow at the purse but said nothing, instead turning his head to stare back at the aged man. Luna smiled serenely at the ex-Death Eater and hummed under her breath, obviously thinking something that no one else was or could possibly understand.

**The lane was bordered on the left by wild, low-growing brambles, on the right by a high, neatly manicured hedge. The men's long cloaks flapped around their ankles as they marched.**

"Thought I might be late," said Yaxley, his blunt features sliding in and out of sight as the branches of overhanging tress broke the moonlight.

Regulus shuddered at the thought, but did not vocalize his feelings. Luna, who was seated next to him, sent him a reassuring smile. He blinked at her in confusion, but kept his silence.

**"It was a little trickier than I expected. But I hope he will be satisfied. You should confident that your reception will be good?" Snape nodded, but did not elaborate.**

**They turned right, into a wide driveway that led off the lane. The high hedge curved with them, running off into the distance beyond the pair of impressive wrought-iron gates barring the men's way. Neither of them broke step: In silence both raised their left arms in a kind of salute and passed straight through, as though the dark metal were smoke.**

"That's new." Sirius stated, looking reluctantly impressed.

"Voldemort came up with it in our sixth year. It's why we couldn't get to Dumbledore in time." Neville replied bitterly, shaking his head.

**The yew hedges muffled the sound of the men's footsteps. There was a rustle somewhere to their right; Yaxley drew his wand again, pointing it over his companion's head, but the source of the noise proved to be nothing more than a pure-white peacock, strutting majestically along the top of the hedge.**

**"He always did himself well, Lucius. Peacocks. . . " Yaxley thrust his wand back under his cloak with a snort.**

"I hate that place." Hermione muttered softly, earning herself a pat on the arm from Luna and sympathetic looks from her best friends - as well as a whole load of confused ones from the rest of the hall.

"When have you been to Malfoy Manor?" Molly asked worriedly.

"Not now Mum." Bill cut in, waving his mother down with a side-glance to the Gryffindor. He may not know everything, but he knew enough to realize that whatever had made her so pale when she had arrived at his house probably had to do with the Malfoys and the Death Eaters.

**A handsome manor house grew out of the darkness at the end of the straight drive, lights glinting in the diamond-paned downstairs windows. Somewhere in the dark garden beyond the hedge a fountain was playing. Gravel crackled beneath their feet as Snape and Yaxley sped toward the front door, which swung inward at their approach, though nobody had visibly opened it.**

**The hallway was large, dimly light, and sumptuously decorated, with a magnificent carpet covering most of the stone floor. The eyes of the pale-faced portraits on the walls followed Snape and Yaxley as they strode past. The two men halted at a heavy wooden door leading into the next room, hesitated for the space of a heartbeat, then Snape turned the bronze handle.**

"It's almost like they didn't want to report." One Gryffindor fifth year snorted.

"Would you want to?" Draco snapped quietly, flushing when a couple of people looked his way.

**The drawing room was full of silent people, sitting at a long and ornate table. The room's usual furniture had been pushed carelessly up against the walls. Illumination came from a roaring fire beneath a handsome marble mantelpiece surmounted by a gilded mirror. Snape and Yaxley lingered for a moment on the thresh- old. As their eyes grew accustomed to the lack of light, they were drawn upward to the strangest feature of the scene; an apparently unconscious human figure hanging upside down over the table, revolving slowly as if suspended by an invisible rope, and reflected in the mirror and in the bare, polished surface of the table below. He seemed unable to prevent himself from glancing upward every minute or so.**

**"Yaxley, Snape," said a high, clear voice from the head of the table. "You are very nearly late."**

"How can you be nearly late?" A Slytherin prefect asked, looking directly at Regulus.

The ex-Death Eater grimaced and turned to look at her. He did not look terribly excited to have to be answering the question.

"I never actually asked. It was not a nice thing, tempting his wrath." Regulus replied, suppressing a shudder. Not a nice thing at all.

**The speaker was seated directly in front of the fireplace, so that it was difficult, at first, for the new arrivals to make out more than his silhouette. As they drew nearer, however, this face shone through the gloom, hairless, snakelike, with slits for nostrils and gleaming red eyes whose pupils were vertical. He was so pale that he seemed to emit a pearly glow.**

"Did he really look like that?" A Hufflepuff who had not been in the battle asked.

"Yes." Harry replied bluntly, not looking too pleased to be breaking his vow of silence.

**"Severus, here," said Voldemort, indicating the seat on his im- mediate right. "Yaxley—beside Dolohov."**

**The two men took their allotted places. Most of the eyes around the table followed Snape, and it was to him that Voldemort spoke first.**

**"So?"**

**"My Lord, the Order of the Phoenix intends to move Harry Potter from his current place of safety on Saturday next, at night-fall."**

"So that's how they knew." Bill muttered with a frown. "It doesn't make sense, Snape couldn't have known about our plans, he wasn't there."

"He must have had an inside source." Arthur suggested wearily.

Harry muffled a snort, avoiding his mother's curious gaze. _An inside source_, he was the source.

The interest around the table sharpened palpably; Some stiffened, others fidgeted, all gazing at Snape and Voldemort.

**"Saturday . . . at nightfall," repeated Voldemort.**

**His red eyes fastened upon Snape's black ones with such intensity that some of the watchers looked away, apparently fearful that they themselves would be scorched by the ferocity of the gaze. Snape, however, looked calmly back into Voldemort's face and, after a moment or two. Voldemort's lipless mouth curved into something like a smile.**

"Possibly the best Occlumens I've ever met." Albus smiled a little sadly, shaking his head slightly.

Minerva, the only one to have heard him, sent him a sharp look.

**"Good. Very good. And this information comes—"**

**"—from the source we discussed," said Snape.**

**"My Lord." Yaxley had leaned forward to look down the long table at Voldemort and Snape.**

"You don't interrupt the Dark Lord without consequence." Regulus winced.

**All faces turned to him.**

**"My Lord, I have heard differently," Yaxley waited but Voldemort did not speak, so he went on,**

**"Dawlish, the Auror, let slip that Potter will not be moved until the thirtieth, the night before the boy turns seventeen."**

**Snape was smiling, "My source told me that there are plans to lay a false trail; this must be it. No doubt a Confundus Charm has been placed upon Dawlish. It would not be the first time; he is known to be susceptible."**

**"I assure you, my Lord, Dawlish seemed quite certain," said Yaxley.**

"A Confunded person would be certain." A Ravenclaw stated knowingly, nodding along with his words.

"It seems Professor Snape agrees." Albus chuckled, reading out the next line.

**"If he has been Confunded, naturally he is certain," said Snape. "I assure you, Yaxley, the Auror Office will play no further part in the protection of Harry Potter. The Order believes that we have infiltrated the Ministry."**

**"The Order's got one thing right, then, eh?" said a squat man sitting a short distance from Yaxley; he gave a wheezy giggle that was echoed here and there along the table.**

"They infiltrated the Ministry?" Lily demanded in a weak voice, pale as a ghost.

"They can have it," Sirius spat darkly, "it's completely useless."

James sent his best friend a worried look and placed a hand on his arm, but Sirius shook it off with a grunt. The stag animagus sent a questioning glance to Remus, but the werewolf shook his head and made a couple of hand signs - which Hermione recognized as Muggle sign language, and made a note to ask about it later. James nodded and sat back, though he continued to keep a concerned eye on Sirius.

**Voldemort did not laugh. His gaze had wandered upward to the body revolving slowly overhead, and he seemed to be lost in thought.**

**"My Lord," Yaxley went on, "Dawlish believes an entire party of Aurors will be used to transfer the boy—"**

**Voldemort held up a large white hand, and Yaxley subsided at once, watching resentfully as Voldemort turned back to Snape.**

"And the consequence: the Voldemort equivalent of a bitch-slap." Regulus stated with a faint smirk.

"What's the equivalent of a fist fight?" Tonks asked, leaning away from her table to make eye contact with the young man.

He frowned slightly, thinking it over, and grimaced.

"Death."

**"Where are they going to hide the boy next?"**

**"At the home of one of the Order," said Snape. "The place, according to the source, has been given every protection that the Order and Ministry together could provide. I think that there is little chance of taking him once he is there, my Lord, unless, of course, the Ministry has fallen before next Saturday, which might give us the opportunity to discover and undo enough of the enchantments to break through the rest."**

Lily worried her lip at the thought of the Ministry falling and sent a worried glance to her son, to remind herself that he was still there. He didn't die. Well… not until much later.

James sported a similar expression, and took his wife's hand in a tight grip to try and comfort them both. Neither of them felt certain enough to reach out and hug their son before he initiated contact; they could see the way he seemed to shy away from attention, and they didn't want to spook him.

**"Well, Yaxley?" Voldemort called down the table, the firelight glinting strangely in his red eyes. "Will the Ministry have fallen by next Saturday?"**

**Once again, all heads turned. Yaxley squared his shoulders.**

"Are we close to a fist fight?" Tonks asked Regulus again.

"Depending on his answer. If he satisfies the Dark Lord, then he won't be murdered on the spot and fed to his snake." Regulus shrugged, looking like it was an every day occurrence. Which it probably was when you worked for a mass-murderer like Voldemort.

**"My Lord, I have good news on that score. I have—with difficulty, and after great effort—succeeded in placing an Imperius Curse upon Pius Thicknesse." Many of those sitting around Yaxley looked impressed; his neighbour, Dolohov, a man with a long, twisted face, clapped him on the back.**

**"It is a start," said Voldemort. "But Thicknesse is only one man. Scrimgeour must be surrounded by our people before I act. One failed attempt on the Minister's life will set me back a long way."**

**"Yes—my Lord, that is true—but you know, as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Thicknesse has regular contact not only with the Minister himself, but also with the Heads of all the other Ministry departments. I will, I think, be easy now that we have such a high-ranking official under our control, to subjugate the others, and then they can all work together to bring Scrimgeour down."**

"Obviously, nobody wants to get into a - ah - _fist fight_ with Voldemort." Regulus stated, for the benefit of the Ravenclaws - who looked like they were hanging off of every word that was spoken aloud.

**"As long as our friend Thicknesse is not discovered before he has converted the rest," said Voldemort. "At any rate, it remains unlikely that the Ministry will be mine before next Saturday. If we cannot touch the boy at his destination, the it must be done while he travels."**

**"We are at an advantage there, my Lord," said Yaxley, who seemed determined to receive some portion of approval. "We now have several people planted within the Department of Magical Transport. If Potter Apparates or uses the Floo Network, we shall know immediately."**

Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, and Ginny all snorted and chuckled, shaking their heads.

"He would never trust the Ministry enough for that." They all intoned together, sounding amused.

**"He will not do either," said Snape. "The order is eschewing any form of transport that is controlled or regulated by the Ministry; they mistrust everything to do with the place."**

"He certainly knows a lot about you, for how much he hated you." Neville noted.

"He didn't hate Harry, he was just bitter about how his life turned out, and that his love was unrequited." Luna stated in a dreamy tone, earning a series of surprised looks from Harry, Regulus (who had been friends with Severus while he was alive), Lily, and Dumbledore.

"Snape wasn't capable of love." A Gryffindor who had the man as a headmaster shot back.

Luna just hummed politely in response and stared off into space. The Gryffindor sent her a confused frown and sat back, not really sure what had just happened. He was certain that they were going to get into a row about what he said, but she just brushed it off. He scratched his head and tuned back into the reading.

**"All the better," said Voldemort. "He will have to move in the open. Easier to take, by far."**

**Again, Voldemort looked up at the slowly revolving body as he went on, "I shall attend to the boy in person. There have been too many mistakes where Harry Potter is concerned. Some of them have been my own. That Potter lives is due more to my errors than to his triumphs."**

"Oh, of course." Sirius snarled scathingly, eyes flashing. "The fact that he was an infant when you first attacked was just a coincidence."

Harry snickered and grinned at his Godfather, earning a toothy grin back from the man. Harry couldn't help but feel elated at the light in Sirius' eyes and face, and the youthful looks he had. It was almost like Azkaban had been completely erased from his physical being.

**The company around the table watched Voldemort apprehensively, each of them, by his or her expression, afraid that they might be blamed for Harry Potter's continued existence. Voldemort, however, seemed to be speaking more to himself than to any of them, still addressing the unconscious body above him. "I have been careless, and so have been thwarted by luck and chance, those wreckers of all but the best-laid plans. But I know better now. I understand those things that I did not understand before. I must be the one to kill Harry Potter, and I shall be."**

"Worked out real well for you, didn't it mate?" Fred snorted shaking his head.

George slapped Fred's head and glared at his twin.

"Ol' Voldy is not your friend. I don't care if you bonded with Quirrell over crumpets, I will not have you calling him _mate_." George exclaimed in a shrill voice.

"But they were delicious." Fred whined, fluttering his eyelashes.

**By then the rest of the hall was in hysterics, and the two high-fived. Mission Distract Great Hall, success! They caught the three Marauders staring, but - not being aware of that they were the pranking heroes - ignored them.**

**At these words, seemingly in response to them, a sudden wail sounded, a terrible, drawn-out cry of misery and pain. Many of those at the table looked downward, startled, for the sound had seemed to issue from below their feet.**

**"Wormtail,"**

Dangerous snarls came from Remus, Sirius, Harry, and Ron, all their eyes flashing. Remus' even turned gold. James was glowering at the table, and Lily had tears of frustration and sorrow in her eyes. Hermione swallowed and looked up from her notes long enough to send the book a harsh glare.

"I hate that stupid rat." Ron snarled, physically shaking with rage.

**Wary looks were sent their way, but no one spoke in fear of having their wrath turned onto them.**

**said Voldemort, with no change in his quiet, thoughtful tone, and without removing his eyes from the revolving body above, "have I not spoken to you about keeping our prisoner quiet?"**

**"Yes, m–my Lord," gasped a small man halfway down the table, who had been sitting so low in his chair that it had appeared, at first glance, to be unoccupied. Now he scrambled from his seat and scurried from the room, leaving nothing behind him but a curious gleam of silver.**

**"As I was saying," continued Voldemort, looking again at the tense faces of his followers, "I understand better now. I shall need, for instance, to borrow a wand from one of you before I go to kill Potter."**

"Technically, he wants to borrow an arm, for a wizard or witch at least." Andromeda pointed out kindly for the Muggle borns.

"Why does he need another wand to kill you?" Dean asked from a couple of tables away.

"It doesn't matter." Harry replied dismissively, not wanting to get into the whole wand argument again.

"Of course it matters Harry, it's the reason you're alive today, and Voldemort is not in power." Albus chided him gently.

Harry huffed and ignored the curious looks. He was not going to get into that argument, not again.

**The faces around his displayed nothing but shock; he might have announced that he wanted to borrow one of their arms.**

"See?" Andromeda smiled smugly.

Tonks smiled at the sight; her mother hadn't been too happy since her husband had died, and Tonks had been desperate to cheer her up since then.

**"No volunteers?" said Voldemort. "Let's see . . . Lucius, I see no reason for you to have a wand anymore."**

**Lucius Malfoy looked up. His skin appeared yellowish and waxy in the firelight, and his eyes were sunken and shadowed. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. "My Lord?"**

**"Your wand, Lucius. I require your wand."**

**"I . . . " Malfoy glanced sideways at his wife. She was staring straight**

**ahead, quite as pale as he was, her long blonde hair hanging down her back, but beneath the table her slim fingers closed briefly on his wrist. At her touch, Malfoy put his hand into his robes, withdrew a wand, and passed it along to Voldemort, who held it up in from of his red eyes, examining it closely.**

**"What is it?"**

**"Elm, my Lord," whispered Malfoy.**

**"And the core?"**

**"Dragon—dragon heartstring."**

**"Good," said Voldemort.**

**He drew out his own wand and compared the lengths. Lucius Malfoy made an involuntary movement; for a fraction of a second, it seemed he expected to receive Voldemort's wand in exchange for his own. The gesture was not missed by Voldemort, whose eyes widened maliciously.**

The entire Great Hall gaped at the book for a moment, then Regulus turned his head to stare incredulously at the Slytherin sinking in his chair at the back of the room. A slow smirk spread on his face, and his voice was cold and sneering when he spoke.

"Think that highly of yourself, do you?"

Lucius flushed and straightened in his chair, shooting a glare at the eighteen-year-old. The elder Slytherin took a moment to take in Regulus, the dark green robes and the fact that he was sitting at a table with that _Mudblood_ that had escaped from his house. His glare darkened, and his lips pulled back in a snarl.

"I have every right to, unlike you. I do not spend my time consorting with Blood Traitors and Mudbloods." He spat disdainfully.

Regulus paused, raising an eyebrow, and turned his head to the side slightly so that he could take in the company at his table. All around him people in the Great Hall were either shouting obscenities or glaring hatefully at the Malfoy.

"I'm surprised you still have the gall to use such a word, Lucius. What, have you grown brave now that Severus has departed? Brave enough to attempt the use of such a vulgar word?"

"Severus was a fool, ranting about how foul and unbecoming it was. Snapping at anyone who used the word."

"He was no fool." Regulus replied shortly, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"He loved a Mudblood! He refused to allow any but the Dark Lord and Bella to call them such! He was a disgrace!" Lucius howled, drawing his wand and jumping from his seat.

In the same movement, Regulus drew his, getting to his feet. The two stood at either end of the crowded hall, staring at each other with equal looks of hatred and fury. For a moment, nothing happened, then Lucius snarled out a curse. A green beam of light shot at Regulus, a little darker and more bluish than the killing curse. Regulus flicked his wand, and the spell exploded into a shower of sparks, inches from his chest. Then, never breaking eye contact with Lucius, he flicked his wand again, and a Protego barrier appeared just in front of him, wide enough to block his table from harm.

"I know your games, Lucius. Of the two of us, who do you think will win this duel?" Regulus paused as though for an answer, but Lucius just snarled wordlessly. "Sit down and keep your wand away from me. If you so much as point it at me, or those I am sitting with, I will not be pleased."

With that, Regulus pocketed his wand and turned his back, sitting back in his chair without another word. Lucius stood for a couple moments, then let out another snarl and sat down, shoving his wand/cane against the ground forcefully. The moment his wand was sheathed, the barrier shattered, and Regulus tipped his head to Dumbledore as a sign to continue reading.

Albus continued to stare down at the two Slytherins, then he nodded and continued reading.

**"Give you my wand, Lucius? My wand?" Some of the throng sniggered. "I have given you your liberty, Lucius, is that not enough for you? But I have noticed that you and your family seem less than happy of late . . . What is it about my presence in your home that displeases you, Lucius?"**

**"Nothing—nothing, my Lord!"**

**"Such lies, Lucius . . . " The soft voice seems to hiss on even after the cruel mouth had stopped moving. One or two of the wizards barely repressed a shudder as the hissing grew louder; something heavy could be heard sliding across the floor beneath the table. The huge snake emerged to climb slowly up Voldemort's chair.**

**It rose, seemingly endlessly, and came to rest across Voldemort's shoulders; its neck the thickness of a man's thigh; its eyes, with their vertical slits for pupils, unblinking. Voldemort stroked the creature absently with long thin fingers, still looking at Lucius Malfoy.**

Neville shuddered slightly at the thought of the snake, but felt a stab of pride to go with his revulsion. He had killed that snake, with the sword of Godric Gryffindor.

**"Why do the Malfoys look so unhappy with their lot? Is my return, my rise to power, not the very thing they professed to desire for so many years?"**

**"Of course, my Lord," said Lucius Malfoy. His hand shook as he wiped sweat from his upper lip. "We did desire it—we do."**

Regulus said nothing, but he thought over what had been said as a description of Lucius and inclined his head slightly. The Malfoys desired power, nothing more. They cared little if the Dark Lord won or not. It was all in perception, and Regulus had gained a surprisingly clear perception and insight into his Death Eater companions before he died.

**To Malfoy's left, his wife made an odd, stiff nod, her eyes averted from Voldemort and the snake. To his right, his son, Draco, who had been gazing up at the inert body overhead, glanced quickly at Voldemort and away again, terrified to make eye contact.**

"Understandable, he is a bit creepy." Harry pointed out fairly, earning an amused glance from his friends.

"A bit?" Ron repeated.

"Yeah." Harry shrugged, earning a snort from Ron.

**"My Lord," said a dark woman halfway down the table, her voice constricted with emotion, "it is an honour to have you here, in our family's house. There can be no higher pleasure."**

**She sat beside her sister, as unlike her in looks, with her dark hair and heavily lidded eyes, as she was in bearing and demeanour; where Narcissa sat rigid and impassive, Bellatrix leaned toward Voldemort, for mere words could not demonstrate her longer for closeness.**

Sirius shuddered at the memory of his foul cousin, along with Neville. The boy turned to Molly with a smile.

"I don't think I thanked you for getting rid of her." He said, eyes shining with gratitude.

Molly blushed, and let out a gasp when Sirius let out a whoop.

"Aw yeah! REVENGE, Weasley style." Sirius hollered, earning himself a red-faced smile from Molly. Neville nodded along furiously at the words, making the matron go even brighter red.

**"No higher pleasure," repeated Voldemort, his head tilted a little to one side as he considered Bellatrix. "That means a great deal, Bellatrix, from you,"**

**Her face flooded with colour; her eyes welled with tears of delight. "My Lord knows I speak nothing but the truth!"**

**"No higher pleasure . . . even compared with the happy event that, I hear, has taken place in your family this week?"**

**She stared at him, her lips parted, evidently confused. "I don't know what you mean, my Lord." "I'm talking about your niece, Bellatrix. And your, Lucius and Narcissa. She has just married the werewolf, Remus Lupin. You must be so proud."**

There was a great cheering of congratulations towards the couple, who were blushing furiously. Only a couple of people remained silent, and Remus flushed even darker when James and Sirius let out wolf whistles.

"Atta boy, Moony!" Sirius hollered, grinning.

George perked up slightly as he barely caught the words over the loud congratulations, and tilted his head slightly as he eyed his old professor. Then he shook his head, there was no way one of his pranking idles could be _Professor Lupin_. He was just being foolish.

**There was an eruption of jeering laughter from around the table. Many leaned forward to exchange gleeful looks, a few thumped the table with their fists. The great snake, disliking the disturbance, opened its mouth and hissed angrily, but the Death Eaters did not hear it, so jubilant were they at Bellatrix and the Malfoys' humiliation. Bellatrix's face, so recently flushed with happiness, had turned an ugly, blotchy red.**

**"She is no niece of ours, my Lord," she cried over the outpouring of mirth. "We—Narcissa and I—have never set eyes on our sister since she married the Mudblood. This brat has nothing to do with either of us, nor any beast she marries."**

**"What say you, Draco?" asked Voldemort, and though his voice was quiet, it carried clearly through the catcalls and jeers. "Will you babysit the cubs?"**

Draco turned his head to stare at the happy little infant in the arms of his relative, who was laughing at something her husband had just said. He watched as the baby made it's hair change from sandy (like his father) to canary yellow (like his mother). A small smile made its way to Draco's face, but he quickly forced it away with a frown, removing his gaze from the happy family. He did not know why he had smiled, but he did not like it, not one bit.

**The hilarity mounted; Draco Malfoy looked in terror at his father, who was staring down into his own lap, then caught his mother's eye. She shook her head almost imperceptibly, then resumed her own deadpan stare at the opposite wall.**

**"Enough," said Voldemort, stroking the angry snake. "Enough."**

**And the laughter died at once. "Many of our oldest family trees become a little diseased over time," he said as Bellatrix gazed at him, breathless and imploring. "You must prune yours, must you not, to keep it healthy? Cut away those parts that threaten the health of the rest."**

**"Yes, my Lord," whispered Bellatrix, and her eyes swam with tears of gratitude again. "At the first chance!"**

"It's sad that she actually kept her promise." Tonks whispered softly to Remus, wincing at the thought.

He sent her a pained look and wrapped one arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side and tickling their son's nose. Tonks smiled faintly and leaned into the embrace, smiling down at Teddy as he giggled.

**"You shall have it," said Voldemort. "And in your family, so in the world . . . we shall cut away the canker that infects us until only those of the true blood remain . . . "**

**Voldemort raised Lucius Malfoy's wand, pointed it directly at the slowly revolving figure suspended over the table, and gave it a tiny flick. The figure came to life with a groan and began to struggle against invisible bonds.**

**"Do you recognize our guest, Severus?" asked Voldemort.**

**Snape raised his eyes to the upside down face. All of the Death Eaters were looking up at the captive now, as though they had been given permission to show curiosity. As she revolved to face the firelight, the woman said in a cracked and terrified voice. "Severus! Help me!"**

Tears filled up the eyes of almost every girl in the room, and quite a few males shifted uncomfortably. Regulus closed his eyes, knowing what was about to happen, from personal experience.

Hermione had dropped her quill to stare at the page below her silently, tears in her eyes. From the next table, Ron shot her a worried glance, but he remained at his place beside his family.

**"Ah, yes," said Snape as the prisoner turned slowly away again.**

**"And you, Draco?" asked Voldemort, stroking the snake's snout with his wand-free hand. Draco shook his head jerkily. Now that the woman had woken, he seemed unable to look at her anymore.**

Draco closed his eyes and suppressed a shudder at the memory, his breathing picking up almost imperceptibly.

**"But you would not have taken her classes," said Voldemort. "For those of you who do not know, we are joined here tonight by Charity Burbage, who until recently, taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."**

"NO!" Quite a few students and teachers wailed, but the loudest and most upset of all was Madam Hooch. All eyes flew to the Quidditch referee/flying teacher, who was pale as a ghost.

Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher who sat beside her, quickly began trying to comfort her, and the Great Hall fell silent as they stared at the scene. Eventually the sobs quieted, and Madam Hooch managed a near-silent explanation.

"She was my best friend for some years."

The whispered sentence caused an awkward silence to fall over the group, and Albus continued reading with a sad glance to the visibly upset professor.

**There were small noises of comprehension around the table. A broad, hunched woman with pointed teeth cackled.**

**"Yes . . . Professor Burbage taught the children of witches and wizards all about Muggles . . . how they are not so different from us . . . "**

**One of the Death Eaters spat on the floor. Charity Burbage revolved to face Snape again.**

**"Severus ... please ... please ..."**

**"Silence," said Voldemort, with another twitch of Malfoy's wand, and Charity fell silent as if gagged. "Not content with corrupting and polluting the minds of Wizarding children, last week Professor Burbage wrote an impassioned defence of Mudbloods in the Daily Prophet. Wizards, she says, must accept those thieves of their knowledge and magic. The dwindling of the purebloods is, says Professor Burbage, a most desirable circumstance . . . She would have use all mate with Muggles . . . or, no doubt, werewolves . . . "**

**Nobody laughed this time; There was no mistaking the anger and contempt in Voldemort's voice. For the third time, Charity Burbage revolved to face Snape. Tears were pouring from her eyes into her hair. Snape looked back at her, quite impassive, as she turned slowly away from his again.**

**"Avada Kedavra."**

Madam Hooch closed her eyes and shuddered, remembering the bright witch she had befriended in the staff room. They had become incredibly close over the years, though neither held an aptitude for the other's subject.

**The flash of green light illuminated every corner of the room. Charity fell, with a resounding crash, onto the table below, which trembled and creaked. Several of the Death Eaters leapt back in their chairs. Draco fell out of his onto the floor.**

**"Dinner, Nagini," said Voldemort softly, and the great snake swayed and slithered from his shoulders onto the polished wood.**

Albus sighed and placed the book on the table, surveying the assembled crowd. Most of them looked quite upset with the demise of their teacher, though some of the Slytherins just looked unaffected.

"Perhaps a short break before we continue?" He suggested mildly.

"N-no, let's just read on." Madam Hooch replied in a hard voice, her expression stern as she attempted to get over her break down.

Minerva and Sinistra sent the professor worried looks, but said nothing. There was nothing they could say; Hooch had always been a singularly brilliant and self-reliant witch, and she would likely take any form of comforting as an insult. The only thing that ever seemed to comfort her, with the exception of a few friends she had known back when she had gone to Hogwarts, was flying or playing a particularly aggressive game of Quidditch.

"Very well then. Would someone else like to read?" Albus asked politely, surveying the crowd.

A Ravenclaw sixth year managed to throw her hand in the air mere seconds before Hermione, and smiled in self-congratulation as Albus floated the book over to her. She took the book, cracked the spine, and flipped to the correct page.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so first thing, why doesn't Madam Hooch have a first name? I mean its speculated that it's either Rolanda or Xiomara, but there's nothing concrete. I have absolutely no clue what to call her. Also, no background. Annoying, but an awesome character anyways, so I'll write her in.**

**Also, sorry if there isn't a wide variety of people are commenting on what's happening, I'm working on it.**

**Feedback is appreciated.**


	3. That Wand's Evil

**A/N: So, managed to get this one done too. Wow, really going at it today. Weird. Anyways, this one is chapter two of the Deathly Hallows.**

**Disclaimer: All bold not preceded by A/N, characters, and settings belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

The Ravenclaw cleared her throat and began to read in a sharp tone that commanded attention.

**Harry was bleeding.**

"What now?" Hermione and Ron sighed together, shaking their heads.

"I, uh, cut my finger on a piece of broken glass." Harry replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head.

Hermione let out a relieved sigh, and Ron nodded with a small smile.

"Good, I thought it was something bad." Ron chuckled.

Lily and James shared a surprised look, if this was not something bad then what was?

**Clutching his right hand in his left and sweating under his breath, he shouldered open his bedroom door. There was a crunch of breaking china. He had trodden on a cup of cold tea that had been sitting on the floor outside his bedroom door.**

**"What the—?"**

"Why should tea be surprising? It's friendly." Lavender asked with a tilt of her head.

At the same time Lily turned to Harry with a look of horror on her face, "You aren't living with my sister, right? Dumbledore listened to my will and placed you with someone else, right?"

"You had a will?" Harry repeated blankly, avoiding the subject of where he lived.

Lily groaned softly and buried her head in her arms as she realized what his avoidance must mean.

**He looked around, the landing of number four, Privet Drive, was deserted. Possibly the cup of tea was Dudley's idea of a clever booby trap.**

"Clever?" Ginny snorted. Harry shrugged.

"YOU LEFT HIM WITH THEM!" Lily shrieked at Dumbledore, eyes flashing as she jumped to her feet.

"I apologize, but it was necessary-" Albus began in a kindly tone of voice.

"NO." Lily spat, fists clenched, hair floating off of her shoulders as magic began to pulse around her. "No, Albus. I've heard enough. I specifically stated that 'Petunia Dursley is not to go within twenty feet of my son, if I die, he is to be placed with another suitable caretaker'."

James was also on his feet, his hazel eyes flashing dangerously. Again, Albus tried to explain in the face of their formidable anger.

"Mr. and Mrs. Potter, please. It is understandable that you'd be angry, but-"

"Angry?" James seethed, drawing his wand from his sleeve and pointing at Albus, who looked quite shocked by the action. "I'm downright furious. I'd openly attack you if there weren't so many witnesses."

Gasps quickly went around the room, and the other two Marauders decided it was time to intervene. As angry as they were, they both knew that nothing good would come from this. They got to their feet at the same time and approached the couple, drawing their own wands for good measure. The two stopped several feet away, holding their wands at the ready.

"James," Sirius talked slowly, "you're son is staring. Lower your wand. I will not hesitate to curse you."

"Lily," Remus started at the same time, "You can hex me for this later, but I need you to sit down. If I have to curse you, neither of us will be happy."

The two Potters glared at the people talking to them, but silently sank into their seats nonetheless. Sirius and Remus let out sighs of relief and returned to their seats, sending each other congratulatory grins.

Harry just stared at his parents, uncertain how to feel about their reactions.

**Keeping his bleeding hand elevated, Harry scraped the fragments of cup together with the other hand and threw them into the already crammed bin just visible inside his bedroom door. Then he tramped across to the bathroom to run his finger under the tap.**

**It was stupid, pointless, irritating beyond belief that he still had four days left of being unable to perform magic . . . but he had to admit to himself that this jagged cut in his finger would have defeated him.**

Fred and George shared a grin.

"NEWS FLASH: FAMED BOY-WHO-LIVES DEFEATED BY SMALL CUT." Fred exclaimed loudly.

"Voldemort reportedly furious at the surprising turn of events." George added.

The Marauders shared a look and smirked. They began talking to each other in Sign Language, earning strange looks from most of the people around them, which they diligently ignored. By the end of their 'conversation', all three were sporting wicked grins, and sending sidelong glances to the Weasley Twins.

**He had never learned how to repair wounds, and now he came to think of it—particularly in light of his immediate plans—it seemed a serious flaw in his magical education.**

"It can be a very dangerous branch of magic, Mr. Potter. I thought that you might appreciate that more than other students." Madam Pomfrey chided him with a gentle smile.

Harry blushed and looked away.

**Making a mental note to ask Hermione how it was done, he used a large wad of toilet paper to mop up as much of the tea as he could, before returning to his bedroom and slamming the door behind him.**

"When in doubt, it is always wisest to turn to the book-savvy friend." George stated with a small grin.

"Yeah, it's why we intend to hire Lee to help with WWW, he's the bookish one." Fred added, sending a friendly wave over to the other boy.

Lee waved back from the table he shared with Katie, Angelica, and Alicia. The 'Quidditch Buddies' as they had been dubbed by Fred, had chosen a table to themselves so that they could catch up on old times.

**Harry had spent the morning completely emptying his school trunk for the first time since he had packed it six years ago. At the start of the intervening school years, he had merely skimmed off the topmost three quarters of the contents and replaced or updated them, leaving a layer of general debris at the bottom—old quills, desiccated beetle eyes, single socks that no longer fit. Minutes previously, Harry had plunged his hand into this mulch, experienced a stabbing pain in the fourth finger of his right hand, and withdrawn it to see a lot of blood. He now proceeded a little more cautiously. Kneeling down beside the trunk again, he groped around in the bottom and, after retrieving an old badge that flickered feebly be- tween SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY and POTTER STINKS, a cracked and worn-out Sneakoscope, and a gold locket inside which a note signed R.A.B. had been hidden, he finally discovered the sharp edge that had done the damage. He recognized it at once. It was a two-inch-long fragment of the enchanted mirror that his dead godfather, Sirius, had given him.**

"You broke my enchanted mirror?" Sirius asked in a hurt tone, sending Harry a confused glance.

"Yeah, after you…" Harry trailed off, looking down at the table.

Sirius' eyes widened and he grimaced, also looking away.

**Harry laid it aside and felt cautiously around the trunk for the rest, but nothing more remained of his godfather's last gift except powdered glass, which clung to the deepest layer of debris like glittering grit.**

"It'll probably still work, y'know. The magic on it was pretty strong." James pointed out, trying to cheer the two up.

Harry frowned slightly as he sent a questioning glance to Ron, who was also frowning. His father didn't know how spot on he was.

**Harry sat up and examined the jagged piece on which he had cut himself, seeing nothing but his own bright green eye reflected back at him. Then he placed the fragment on top of that morning's Daily Prophet, which lay unread on the bed, and attempted to stem the sudden upsurge of bitter memories, the stabs of regret and of longing the discovery of the broken mirror had occasioned, by attacking the rest of the rubbish in the trunk.**

"Sorry." Sirius muttered guiltily.

"Nothing to be sorry for." Harry replied as cheerfully as possible, feeling his own guilt welling up.

It took another hour to empty it completely, throw away the useless items, and sort the remainder in piles according to whether or not he would need them from now on. His school and Quidditch robes, cauldron, parchment, quills, and most of his textbooks were piled in a corner, to be left behind.

"You didn't return to Hogwarts?" Lily asked, sounding confused and concerned.

"No, they went on some silly quest for the Headmaster." Molly sniffed, narrowing her eyes at her son. She had not been happy when she had found out that they had left during the attack.

Lily frowned and worried her bottom lip, grabbing onto James' hand again.

**He wondered what his aunt and uncle would do with them; burn them in the dead of night, probably, as if they were the evidence of some dreadful crime. His Muggle clothing, Invisibility Cloak, potion-making kit, certain books, the photograph album Hagrid had once given him, a stack of letters, and his wand had been repacked into an old rucksack. In a front pocket were the Marauder's Map and the locket with the note signed R.A.B. inside it. The locket was accorded this place on honour not because it was valuable—in all usual senses it was worthless—but because of what it had cost to attain it.**

Regulus paled dreadfully, eyes going wide and flying to the three Gryffindors in turn. Hermione gave him the smallest of nods, and he paled further. They knew. They knew how he had died, and it was likely to be in the book. He swallowed thickly, unable to face the idea of reading about his death.

Sirius had turned his head to look at his brother from the corner of his eye, suspicions rising. There was only one person he knew with those initials, and the fact that his brother had paled only served to strengthen his suspicions.

"What did it cost you?" Regulus breathed in a whisper to Hermione, still dreadfully pale.

Hermione said nothing, but her eyes strayed to the previously deceased headmaster, and Regulus followed her gaze. He let out a low moan and covered his eyes with his hands, feeling absolutely dreadful.

**This left a sizeable stack of newspapers sitting on his desk beside his snowy owl, Hedwig: one for each of the days Harry had spent at Privet Drive this summer.**

**He got up off the floor, stretched, and moved across to his desk. Hedwig made no movement as he began to flick through the newspapers, throwing them into the rubbish pile one by one. The owl as asleep, or else faking: she was angry with Harry about the limited amount of time she was allowed out of her cage at the moment.**

**As he neared the bottom of the pile of newspapers, Harry slowed down, searching for one particular issue that he knew had arrived shortly after he had returned to Privet Drive for the summer; he remembered that there had been a small mention on the front about the resignation of Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies teacher at Hogwarts.**

"Resignation my ass." Hooch growled, hawk eyes flashing.

A couple of students gaped at her for swearing, but none of the other teachers had the heart to scold her for the language. She had just lost a friend, she deserved some sort of retribution, even in the form of a swear word.

**At last he found it. Turning to page ten, he sank into his desk chair and reread the article he had been looking for.**

**ALBUS DUMBLEDORE REMEMBERED**

**by Elphias Doge**

The Ravenclaw briefly scanned the article and looked up.

"I believe that we will skip this part; it has no bearing to the plot, and I think that most of you have read it."

She paused as he flipped through the passage.

"Skip that too, we don't need to hear Skeeter's rubbish." Harry called out, and Albus sent him a smile.

**Harry reached the bottom of the article, but continued to stare blankly at the page. Revulsion and fury rose in him like vomit; he balled up the newspaper and threw it, with all his force, at the wall, where it joined the rest of the rubbish heaped around his overflowing bin.**

**He began to stride blindly around the room, opening empty drawers and picking up books only to replace them on the same piles, barely conscious of what he was doing, as random phrases from Rita's article echoed in his head: An entire chapter to the whole Potter-Dumbledore relationship . . . It's been called unhealthy, even sinister . . . He dabbled in the Dark Arts himself in his youth . . . I've had access to a source most journalists would swap their wands for . . .**

By the time the paragraph was done, Albus was feeling sufficiently ill. His worst secrets possibly brought to life by a foul reporter.

**"Lies!" Harry bellowed, and though the window he saw the next-door neighbour, who had paused to restart his lawn mower, look up nervously. Harry sat down hard on the bed. The broken bit of mirror danced away from him; he picked it up and turned it over in his fingers, thinking, thinking of Dumbledore and the lies with which Rita Skeeter was defaming him. . . .**

_Maybe not all lies…_ Harry thought with a slight frown.

**A flash of brightest blue. Harry froze, his cut finger slipping on the jagged edge of the mirror again. He had imagined it, he must have done. He glanced over his shoulder, but the wall was a sickly peach colour of Aunt Petunia's choosing: There was nothing blue there for the mirror to reflect. He peered into the mirror fragment again, and saw nothing but his own bright green eye looking back at him.**

**He had imagined it, there was no other explanation; imagined it, because he had been thinking of his dead headmaster. If anything was certain, it was that the bright blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore would never pierce him again.**

"Well, I do believe that's not so true anymore." Dumbledore chuckled.

Harry shrugged awkwardly, uncertain of how to respond.

"That was the end of the chapter." The Ravenclaw announced, placing the book on the table in front of her.

Before Dumbledore could even ask, Hermione had raised her wand and summoned the book over to herself. Then someone noticed something odd.

"That's not your wand. Your's has pretty vines on it." Pavati Patil stated suddenly, frowning.

Hermione blinked and looked down at the wand in her hand, her face suddenly twisting in to one of revulsion as she all but threw the wand down onto the table.

"Oh God!" She wailed, shuddering. Ron, realizing what was wrong, instantly leapt to his feet and rushed over, wrapping her up into a hug and whispering comforting words to her as she began sobbing.

Parvati blinked in surprise, uncertain of what she had done wrong.

"W-what?"

"None of us went into the battle with our own wand." Harry stated, watching his friends with concern. "That wand…"

"That wand's evil!" Hermione sobbed, burrowing deeper into Ron's chest.

It took a good twenty minutes to calm down the hysterical Gryffindor, and when she was done, she refused to even look at the wand, picking up the book and holding it at an angle that prevented her from seeing the twisted black wood.

* * *

**A/N: I find it funny that all of them managed to fight so well in the last battle without their normal wands. It also makes me wonder, would Hermione have had an easier time fighting Bellatrix if she had her own wand? I also figure that Madam Hooch is the kind of person to not be afraid of swearing, especially when angry, so it sort of fit in there.**

**Also, I used some different characters in this one, hurrah! **

**Feedback is appreciated, don't be afraid to share.**


	4. No Pressure

**A/N: So I tried to bring in some more characters, and thought I'd get into their minds a little more. Hah! I got another chapter done early!**

**Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, or added this to a story alert (and those who added author alerts), it's really inspiring to know that my writing is actually receiving feedback and not just sitting uselessly on the internet or in my computer files.**

**Disclaimer: Anything in bold not proceeded by A/N, characters, and settings are not mine and are owned by J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

Hermione licked her lips and began to read in a crisp and clear voice, which was surprisingly understandable despite the fact that she had just been sobbing. Ron, however, did not return to his seat, merely dragging his chair over to sit in between her and Luna - earning himself a small smile from his girlfriend.

**The sound of the front door slamming echoed up the stair and a voice yelled, "Oi, You!"**

"I definitely chose the wrong chapter." Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes.

**Sixteen years of being addressed thus left Harry in no doubt whom his uncle was calling; nevertheless, he did not immediately respond. He was still gazing at the mirror fragment in which, for a split second, he had thought he say Dumbledore's eye. It was not until his uncle bellowed, "BOY!" that Harry got slowly to his feet and headed for the bedroom door, pausing to add the piece of broken mirror to the rucksack filled with things he would be taking with him.**

"You only had a rucksack with you?" Molly fretted, eyeing the trio worriedly.

"Nope." Ron cheerily popped the p, feeling safe at the other table. "We had Hermione's purse."

Molly gaped in silent horror.

**"You took your time!" roared Vernon Dursley when Harry appeared at the top of the stairs. "Get down here, I want a word!"**

**Harry strolled downstairs, his hands deep in his jeans pockets. When he reached the living room he found all three Dursleys. They were dressed for traveling: Uncle Vernon in a fawn zip-up jacket, Aunt Petunia in a neat salmon-coloured coat, and Dudley, Harry's large, blond, muscular cousin, in his leather jacket.**

"Muscular?" Fred echoed in confusion.

"He took up boxing - a Muggle sport where two guys stand inside of a square and punch each other until one of them gives up or time runs out." Harry explained hastily.

Lily frowned; she had never liked boxing.

**"Yes?" asked Harry.**

**"Sit down!" said Uncle Vernon. Harry raised his eyebrows. "Please!" added Uncle Vernon, wincing slightly as though the word was sharp in his throat.**

"I didn't know he knew that word, honestly." Harry admitted.

"Neither did I, and I only met them once." James admitted with a frown.

"Yes, he accidentally insulted my brother-in-law and sister until they despised us more than I thought possible. They went so far as to insult as at their wedding, and refuse to come to ours." Lily sighed, shaking her head.

**Harry sat. He thought he knew what was coming. His uncle began to pace up and down, Aunt Petunia and Dudley following his movements with anxious expressions. Finally, his large purple face crumpled with concentration, Uncle Vernon stopped in front of Harry and spoke.**

**"I've changed my mind," he said.**

**"What a surprise," said Harry.**

**"Don't you talk in that tone—" began Aunt Petunia in a shrill voice, but Vern Dursley waved her down.**

**"It's all a lot of claptrap," said Uncle Vernon, glaring at Harry with piggy little eyes. "I've decided I don't believe a word of it. We're staying put, we're not going anywhere."**

"Claptrap?" James repeated with that same wicked grin as earlier, which he shared with Sirius.

"Not now, James." Remus stated sharply, shaking his head.

James pouted but did not continue on his obviously devious thoughts. The staff of Hogwarts breathed a sighed together, eyeing the third marauder gratefully. They did not see him sign to James as they turned back to the book: _"next chapter"_.

James smirked at the werewolf.

**Harry looked up at his uncle and felt a mixture of exasperation and amusement. Vernon Dursley had been changing his mind every twenty-four hours for the past four weeks, packing and unpacking and repacking the car with every change of heart. Harry's favourite moment had been the one when Uncle Vernon, unaware that Dudley had added his dumbbells to his case since the last time it had been unpacked, had attempted to hoist it back into the boot and collapsed with roars of pain and much swearing.**

"Normally I would scold you for laughing at something like that, but it's Vernon, so I'll forgive you." James chuckled, still in a good mood.

**"According to you," Vernon Dursley said now, resuming his pacing up and down the living room, "we—Petunia, Dudley, and I—are in danger. From—from—"**

**"Some of 'my lot,' right?" said Harry.**

**"Well, I don't believe it." repeated Uncle Vernon, coming to a halt in front of Harry again. "I was awake half the night thinking it's over, and I believe it's a plot to get the house."**

**"The house?" repeated Harry. "What house?"**

"What house." Seamus snorted, waving cheerfully at Harry when the boy looked over.

Harry sent him a suspicious glance but turned back to the book.

**"This house!" shrieked Uncle Vernon, the vein in his forehead starting to pulse. "Our house! House prices are skyrocketing around here! You want us out of the way and then you're going to do a bit of hocus-pocus and before we know it the deeds will be in your name and—"**

**"Are you out of your mind?" demanded Harry. "A plot to get this house? Are you actually as stupid as you look?"**

**"Don't you dare—!" squealed Aunt Petunia, but again, Vernon waved her down: Slights on his personal appearance were, it seemed, as nothing to the danger he has spotted.**

**"Just in case you've forgotten," said Harry, "I've already got a house, my godfather left me one. So why would I want this one? All the happy memories?"**

"You had a house?" Regulus asked, addressing his brother for the first time.

Sirius jolted slightly in surprise, and twisted to face his brother as he replied grimly, "Grimmauld Place."

"Seriously?" Regulus blinked, then groaned when he realized what he had said.

"Aren't I always Sirius?" Sirius joked, grinning broadly when it earned him the smallest of twitches upwards to his brother's mouth.

**There was silence. Harry thought he had rather impressed his uncle with this argument.**

**"You claim," said Uncle Vernon, starting to pace yet again, "that this Lord Thing—"**

**" — Voldemort," said Harry impatiently, "and we've been through this about a hundred times already. This isn't a claim, it's fact, Dumbledore told you last year, and Kingsley and Mr. Weasley—"**

"He's actually met all of them?" Lily asked curiously.

"Met them? Mr. Weasley threatened the Dursleys' lives, along with Lupin, Tonks, and Moody. It was rather brilliant." Harry laughed. "Dumbledore just came by the next year to pick me up for an errand."

**Vernon Dursley hunched his shoulders angrily, and Harry guessed that his uncle was attempting to ward of recollections of the unannounced visit, a few days into Harry's summer holidays, of two fully grown wizards. The arrival on the doorstep of Kingsley Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley had come as a most unpleasant shock to the Dursleys. Harry had to admit, however, that as Mr. Weasley had once demolished half of the living room, his reappearance could not have been expected to delight Uncle Vernon.**

"You did what?" Molly exclaimed angrily, rounding on her husband.

"It was an accident, dear." Arthur tried to explain, raising his hands.

Molly was having none of it, spending the next twenty minutes to rant at him. Hermione took the opportunity to continue when she stopped to catch her breath.

**"—Kingsley and Mr. Weasley explained it all as well," Harry pressed on remorselessly. "Once I'm seventeen, the protective charm that keeps me safe will break, and that exposes you as well as me. The Order is sure Voldemort will target you, whether to torture you to try and find out where I am, or because he thinks by holding you hostage I'd come and try to rescue you."**

"Would you?" Lily asked her son softly, smiling down at him gently.

Harry nodded.

"Well, we did try, but the place was empty." Draco informed Harry with a shrug.

**Uncle Vernon's and Harry's eyes met. Harry was sure that in that instant they were both wondering the same thing. Then Uncle Vernon walked on and Harry resumed, "You've got to go into hiding and the Order wants to help. You're being offered serious protection, the best there is."**

**Uncle Vernon said nothing, but continued to pace up and down. Outside the sun hung low over the privet hedges. The next-door neighbour's lawn mower stalled again.**

**"I thought there was a Ministry of Magic?" asked Vernon Dursley abruptly.**

**"There is," said Harry, surprised.**

**"Well, then, why can't they protect us? It seems to me that, as innocent victims, guilty of nothing more than harbouring a marked man, we ought to qualify for government protection!"**

**Harry laughed; he could not stop himself. It was so typical of his uncle to put his hopes in the establishment, even within this world that he despised and mistrusted.**

**"You heard what Mr. Weasley and Kingsley said," Harry replied. "We think the Ministry has been infiltrated."**

**Uncle Vernon stroke to the fireplace and back, breathing so heavily that his great black moustache tippled, his face still purple with concentration.**

**"All right," he said, stopping in front of Harry yet again. "All right, let's say, for the sake of argument, we accept this protection. I still don't see why we can't have that Kingsley bloke."**

"Me?" Kingsley repeated in his deep soothing voice.

"Yep."

**Harry managed not to roll his eyes, but with difficulty. This question has also been addressed half a dozen times.**

**"As I've told you," he said through gritted teeth. "Kingsley is protecting the Mug—I mean, your Prime Minister."**

"Not exactly correct at that moment in time." Kingsley chuckled, shaking his head when a couple of people turned their attention his way.

**"Exactly—he's the best!" said Uncle Vernon, pointing at the blank television screen. The Dursleys had spotted Kingsley on the news, walking along discreetly behind the Muggle Prime Minister as he visited a hospital. This, and the fact that Kingsley had mastered the knack of dressing like a Muggle, not to mention a certain reassuring something in his slow, deep voice, had caused the Dursleys to take to Kingsley in a way that they had certainly not done with any other wizard, although it was true that they had never seen him with his earring in.**

Kingsley continued to chuckle, a merry sound that set off a couple of people around him.

**"Well, he's taken," said Harry. "But Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle are more than up to the job—"**

**"If we'd even seen CVs . . . " began Uncle Vernon, but Harry lost patience. Getting to his feet, he advanced on his uncle, now pointing at the TV set himself.**

**"These accidents aren't accidents—the crashes and explosions and derailments and whatever else has happened since we last watched the new. People are disappearing and dying and he's behind it—Voldemort. I've told you this over and over again, he kills Muggles for fun. Even the fogs—they're caused by dementors, and if you can't remember what they are, ask your son!"**

Sirius shuddered dangerously at the thought of dementors, his lips thinning and his eyes sliding closed. Harry sent him an apologetic glance, but Sirius ignored it, taking a slow breath to calm himself before listening to the reading again.

**Dudley's hands jerked upward to cover his mouth. With his parents' and Harry's eyes upon him, he slowly lowered them again and asked, "There are . . . more of them?"**

**"More?" laughed Harry. "More than the two that attacked us, you mean? Of course there are, there are hundreds, maybe thousands by this time, seeing as they feed of fear and despair—"**

**"All right, all right," blustered Vernon Dursley. "You've made your point—"**

**"I hope so," said Harry, "because once I'm seventeen, all of them—Death Eaters, dementors, maybe even Inferi—which means dead bodies enchanted by a Dark Wizard—will be able to find you and will certainly attack you. And if you remember the last time you tried to outrun wizards, I think you'll agree you need help."**

This time it was Regulus that shuddered and closed his eyes, memories of the fetid bodies clambering out of the water to claw at him. Remembering how they had- NO. He refused to think about it.

Regulus grit his teeth and opened his eyes, focusing on the reading rather than his more than unpleasant memories.

**There was a brief silence in which the distant echo of Hagrid smashing something down a wooden front door seemed to reverberate through the intervening years. Aunt Petunia was looking at Uncle Vernon; Dudley was staring at Harry. Finally Uncle Vernon blurted out, "But what about my work? What about Dudley's school? I don't suppose those things matter to a bunch of layabout wizards — "**

**"Don't you understand?" shouted Harry. "They will torture and kill you like they did my parents!"**

"They didn't torture us." James whispered reassuringly to Harry, who managed a strained smile in response.

"They did to others." He replied slightly bitterly, sending a subtle glance to Neville.

**"Dad," said Dudley in a loud voice, "Dad—I'm going with these Order people."**

**"Dudley," said Harry, "for the first time in your life, you're talking sense."**

**He knew that the battle was won. If Dudley was frightened enough to accept the Order's help, his parents would accompany him: There could be no question of being separated from their Duddykins. Harry glanced at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece. "They'll be here in about five minutes," he said, and when none of the Dursleys replied, he left the room. The prospect of parting—probably forever—from his aunt, uncle, and cousin was one that he was able to contemplate quite cheerfully, but there was nevertheless a certain awkwardness in the air. What did you say to one another at the end of sixteen years' solid dislike? Back in his bedroom, Harry fiddled aimlessly with his rucksack, then poked a couple of owl nuts through the bars of Hedwig's cage. They fell with dull thuds to the bottom, where she ignored them.**

**"We're leaving soon, really soon," Harry told her. "And then you'll be able to fly again." The doorbell rang. Harry hesitated, then headed back out of his room and downstairs. It was too much to expect Hestia and Dedalus to cope with the Dursleys on their own.**

**"Harry Potter!" squeaked an excited voice, the moment Harry had opened the door, a small man in a mauve top hat was sweeping him a deep bow. "An honour, as ever!"**

"Always liked Dedalus, he's always had his priorities straight." Sirius grinned, nodding his head firmly.

A couple of people sent him amused looks, but no one commented.

**"Thanks, Dedalus," said Harry, bestowing a small and embarrassed smile upon the dark-haired Hestia. "It's really good of you to do this . . . They're through here, my aunt and uncle and cousin ..."**

**"Good day to you, Harry Potter's relatives!" said Dedalus happily, striding into the living room. The Dursleys did not look at all happy to be addressed thus; Harry half expected another change of mind. Dudley shrank nearer to his mother at the sight of the witch and wizard.**

**"I see you are packed and ready. Excellent! The plan, as Harry has told you, is a simple one," said Dedalus, pulling an immense pocket watch out of his waistcoat and examining it. "We shall be leaving before Harry does. Due to the danger of using magic in your house—Harry being still underage, it could provide the Ministry with an excuse to arrest him—we shall be driving, say, ten miles or so, before Disapparating to the safe location we have picked out for you. You know how to drive, I take it?" he asked Uncle Vernon politely.**

**"Know how to—? Of course I ruddy well know how to drive!" spluttered Uncle Vernon.**

By the end of the paragraph, most of the Great Hall had burst into laughter at the conversation.

**"Very clever of you, sir, very clever. I personally would be utterly bamboozled by all those buttons and knobs," said Dedalus. He was clearly under the impression that he was flattering Vernon Dursley, who was visibly losing confidence in the plan with every word Dedalus spoke.**

**"Can't even drive," he muttered under his breath, his moustache rippling indignantly, but fortunately neither Dedalus or Hestia seemed to hear him.**

**"You, Harry," Dedalus continued, "will wait here for your guard. There has been a little change in the arrangements—"**

**"What d'you mean?" said Harry at once. "I thought Mad-Eye was going to come and take me by Side-Along-Apparition?"**

"Well, this will likely be better, there's an extremely high risk of Splinching, even with only one Side-Along." The Ravenclaw that had spoken earlier pointed out cheerfully. "Normally its the one doing the Apparition that gets Splinched, but sometimes it's the Side-Along instead.

"Really? Hermione took both Harry and I as Side-Alongs loads of times while we were on our journey." Ron blurted, staring at his girlfriend in admiration, along with most of the Great Hall.

She blushed and quickly began reading again.

**"Can't do it," said Hestia tersely. "Mad-Eye will explain."**

**The Dursleys, who had listened to all of this with looks of utter incomprehension on their faces, jumped as a loud voice screeched, "Hurry up!" Harry looked all around the room before realizing that the voice had issued from Dedalus's pocket watch.**

**"Quite right, we're operating to a very tight schedule," said Dedalus, nodding at his watch and tucking it back into his waist-coat. "We are attempting to time your departure from the house with your family's Disapparition, Harry: thus, the charm breaks as the moment you all head for safety." He turned to the Dursleys. "Well, are we all packed and ready to go?"**

**None of them answered him. Uncle Vernon was still staring, appalled, at the bulge in Dedalus's waistcoat pocket.**

Ron, along with some other in the Great Hall, snorted at the description, earning himself a whack over the head with the book.

**"Perhaps we should wait outside in the hall, Dedalus," murmured Hestia. She clearly felt that it would be tactless for them to remain in the room while Harry and the Dursleys exchanged loving, possibly tearful farewells.**

**"There's no need," Harry muttered, but Uncle Vernon made any further explanation unnecessary by saying loudly,**

**"Well, this is good-bye, then, boy."**

**He swung his right arm upward to shake Harry's hand, but at the last moment seemed unable to face it, and merely closed his fist and began swinging it backward and forward like a metronome.**

**"Ready, Diddy?" asked Aunt Petunia, fussily checking the clasp of her handbag so as to avoid looking at Harry altogether.**

**Dudley did not answer, but stood there with his mouth slightly ajar, reminding Harry a little of the giant, Grawp.**

"What's a Grawp?" Charlie frowned.

"The under-sized giant who was fighting for us during the battle. He's Hagrid's half-brother, and he knows basic english. Hagrid is Hagger, where, is, and Hermione is Hermy." Harry replied easily.

"My name was too long." Hermione muttered with a blush when incredulous looks were sent her way.

**"Come along, then," said Uncle Vernon.**

**He had already reached the living room door when Dudley mumbled, "I don't understand."**

**"What don't you understand, popkin?" asked Aunt Petunia, looking up at her son.**

**Dudley raised a large, ham-like hand to point at Harry. "Why isn't he coming with us?" Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia froze where they stood, staring at Dudley as though he had just expressed a desire to become a ballerina.**

**"What?" said Uncle Vernon loudly.**

**"Why isn't he coming too?" asked Dudley.**

**"Well, he—he doesn't want to," said Uncle Vernon, turning to glare at Harry and asking, "You don't want to, do you?"**

**"Not in the slightest," said Harry.**

**"There you are," Uncle Vernon told Dudley. "Now come on, we're off." He marched out of the room. They heard the front door open, but Dudley did not move and after a few faltering steps Aunt Petunia stopped too.**

**"What now?" barked Uncle Vernon, reappearing in the doorway.**

**It seemed that Dudley was struggling with concepts too difficult to put into words. After sever moments of apparently painful internal struggle he said, "But where's he going to go?"**

**Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked at each other. It was clear that Dudley was frightening them. Hestia Jones broke the silence.**

"Frightening them. Of course." Lily spat sarcastically.

**"But . . . surely you know where your nephew is going?" she asked, looking bewildered.**

**"Certainly we know," said Vernon Dursley. "He's off with some of your lot, isn't he? Right, Dudley, let's get in the car, you heard the man, we're in a hurry,"**

**Again, Vernon Dursley marched as far as the front door, but Dudley did not follow.**

**"Off with some of our lot?"**

**Hestia looked outraged. Harry had met this attitude before. Witches and wizards seems stunned that his closest living relatives took so little interest in the famous Harry Potter. "It's fine," Harry assured her. "It doesn't matter, honestly."**

**"Doesn't matter?" repeated Hestia, her voice rising ominously.**

**"Don't these people realize what you've been through? What dangers you are in? The unique position you hold in the hearts of the anti-Voldemort movement?"**

"Position?" Regulus asked those at his table softly.

"The Chosen One, meant to kill Voldemort personally." Luna replied cheerily, not the least bit intimidated by the fact that this young man had once been a Death Eater.

**"Er—no, they don't," said Harry. "They think I'm a waste of space actually, but I'm used to—"**

**"I don't think you're a waste of space."**

**If Harry had not seen Dudley's lips move, he might not have believed it. As it was, he stared at Dudley for several seconds before accepting that it must have been his cousin who had spoken for one thing, Dudley had turned red. Harry was embarrassed and astonished himself.**

**"Well . . . er . . . thanks, Dudley."**

**Again, Dudley appeared to grapple with thoughts too unwieldy for expression before mumbling, "You saved my life."**

"Technically it was his soul." Remus stated, looking faintly amused. Tonks snorted and shook her head, earning herself a frown from her husband.

Andromeda watched them interact with a fond smile, remembering the day Remus had been introduced as her daughter's fiancé. It had been shocking, seeing as she still remembered him as the young man who had come over with her cousin and their friends to babysit Tonks for a little while.

**"Not really," said Harry. "It was your soul the dementor would have taken ..."**

"See?" Remus pointed out, earning a light elbow jab from Tonks.

**He looked curiously at his cousin. They had had virtually no contact during this summer or last, as Harry had come back to Privet Drive so briefly and kept to his room so much. It now dawned on Harry, however, that the cup of cold tea on which he had trodden that morning might not have been a booby trap at all. Although rather touched, he was nevertheless quite relieved that Dudley appeared to have exhausted his ability to express his feelings. After opening his mouth once or twice more, Dudley subsided into scarlet-faced silence.**

**Aunt Petunia burst into tears. Hestia Jones gave her an approving look that changed to outrage as Aunt Petunia ran forward and embraced Dudley rather than Harry.**

Lily frowned and leaned over to hug her son, which he received with a crimson face.

**"S–so sweet, Dudders . . . " she sobbed into his massive chest. "S–such a lovely b–boy . . . s–saying thank you . . . "**

**"But he hasn't said thank you at all!" said Hestia indignantly. "He only said he didn't think Harry was a waste of space!"**

**"Yeah, but coming from Dudley that's like 'I love you,'" said Harry, torn between annoyance and a desire to laugh as Aunt Petunia continued to clutch at Dudley as if he had just saved Harry from a burning building.**

**"Are we going or not?" roared Uncle Vernon, reappearing yet again at the living room door. "I though we were on a tight schedule!"**

**"Yes—yes, we are," said Dedalus Diggle, who had been watching these exchanges with an air of bemusement and now seemed to pull himself together. "We really must be off, Harry—"**

**He tripped forward and wrung Harry's hand with both of his own.**

**"—good luck. I hope we meet again. The hopes of the Wizarding world rest upon your shoulders."**

"But no pressure or anything." Minerva muttered under her breath.

"Of course not, Minerva." Flitwick shot back, equally sarcastic.

The two fell into near silent chuckles.

**"Oh," said Harry. "right. Thanks."**

**"Farewell, Harry," said Hestia, also clasping his hand. "Our thoughts go with you."**

**"I hope everything's okay," said Harry with a glance toward Aunt Petunia and Dudley.**

**"Oh, I'm sure we shall end up the best of chums," said Diggle lightly, waving his hat as** **he left the room. Hestia followed him.**

**Dudley gently released himself from his mother's clutches and walked toward Harry, who had to repress an urge to threaten him with magic. Then Dudley held out his large, pink hand.**

**"Blimey, Dudley," said Harry over Aunt Petunia's renewed sobs. "did the dementors blow a different personality into you?"**

**"Dunno," muttered Dudley. "See you, Harry."**

**"Yeah . . . " said Harry, taking Dudley's hand and shaking it. "Maybe. Take care, Big D." Dudley nearly smiled, then lumbered from the room. Harry heard his heavy footfalls on the gravelled drive, and then a car door slammed.**

**Aunt Petunia, whose face had been buried in her handkerchief, looked around at the sound. She did not seem to have expected to find herself alone with Harry. Hastily stowing her wet handkerchief into her pocket, she said, "Well—good-bye," and marched toward the door without looking at him.**

**"Good-bye," said Harry.**

**She stopped and looked back. For a moment Harry had the strangest feeling that she wanted to say something to him. She gave him an odd, tremulous look and seemed to teeter on the edge of speech, but then, with a little jerk of her head, she bustled out of the room after her husband and son.**

"Did she not want to see the last magical thing in her life go away forever? Or did she actually have some perverted sense of feelings in her shrivelled old heart?" Dean muttered to Seamus, the other boy shrugged.

"Okay, that's it." Hermione stated, tossing the book to Ron. "Your turn."

"Why me?" He complained, even as he opened the book to the right page.

Hermione just smiled back, careful to keep the wand on the table out of her line of sight. Ron let out an exaggerated sigh and held up the book.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, not as much conversation in this chapter, because I honestly struggle with this one. There's a lot of comments that could be said/added, but I can't seem to make them fit. So, less conversations.**

**Um, I thought I'd mention how excited I was to add in Dean and Seamus, because they're just more people to toy with in my story! MWA HAW HAW HAW... Ahem, just a tickle in the throat.**

**Feedback is appreciated.**


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